


Sunday Morning

by teen_content_queen



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Boyfriends, Fluff, M/M, Who knew we'd get an Even who can cook?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 05:31:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teen_content_queen/pseuds/teen_content_queen
Summary: Robbe finds Sander making breakfast one February morning.





	Sunday Morning

Robbe could feel the soft pull of consciousness as he laid in his bed, the chill of the February morning curling under the blankets that gapped around his face. At some point in the night, he’d lost a sock, and the strange sensation of one cold foot and one warm irritated him enough to pry his eyes open, just a bit. It was light out and the brightness forced his eyes shut again. He pulled the blanket up over his head and reached out for his boyfriend, always so warm. Instead he felt nothing but cool sheets and empty mattress.

  
He huffed a little, annoyed in spite of himself. But he couldn’t help it – he hated when Sander got up before him, even when it was just for a water in the middle of the night. Robbe didn’t like to feel like he was missing out on anything, especially time with Sander. They had so little of it during the week, both in the thick of it with school and their own families and lives. Sometimes Robbe wished they could go back to autumn break, to the beach house and the unencumbered hours of a whole week under the same roof, no responsibilities but fun and friends. It was strange now to think about how they’d barely known each other then. How they’d wasted a whole week kissing other people.

  
But they were just getting to know each other back then and now they had weathered so many storms to get here. To weekdays spent texting all day and weekends spent as connected at the hip as possible. With Sunday already begun, Robbe wasted no more time thinking about the time he’d already wasted in bed today. He felt around, rescued his orphaned sock and sprang up and out of bed.

  
He padded through the hallway of his shared flat. When Lisa had decided to extend her study abroad trip, the flat mates had all agreed that Robbe would stay with them longer. He’d offered to go – Zoe’d only offered him the room when she thought it would be for a few months. Now with Lisa gone until the summertime, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Zoe and Milan had insisted that he was being silly. Even Senne had warmed to him and seemed genuinely disappointed that he might leave. So Robbe stayed, and with him came Sander, who had a leather jacket and toothbrush at the flat now, and even a few Bowie vinyl’s out in the living room.  
Robbe could hear one of those records playing now, quiet as to not disturb the rest of the sleeping house. He hadn’t noticed how early it was when he’d woken up, the bright morning sun bouncing off the walls suggesting it couldn’t be later than 8 am. But Sander was up, so Robbe wasn’t going to complain.  
He smelled melted cheese and fried butter before he could actually see the kitchen. That scent was as familiar to him now as his own cologne. The sound of sizzling bread confirmed what he already knew. As he walked into the kitchen, he saw the small spread Sander had already put together on the table. Some orange juice, fruit, and the flowers Robbe had brought him yesterday now presented in a vase.

  
Robbe watched from the doorway as Sander focused on the croque in front of him, careful to not let the bread brown too much. He bobbed his head to the music, hair flopping across his forehead, flat the way it only was in the morning. Robbe watched as he closed his eyes as he got into the song, his soft voice mixing with Bowie’s as he sang “rebel rebel, how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so”. Robbe smiled at the words, the lingering sensation of his grocery cart joyride making his head spin a little even now, all these months later.

  
Robbe knew that with his eyes closed like that and this song playing, Sander wouldn’t notice anything going on around him, even his boyfriend adoringly watching him from the doorway. Robbe crept in and walked up behind Sander, softly snaking his arms around his waist, careful not to get too close to the pan in front of them. He leaned his cheek into Sander’s back, his shoulder blades tensing and relaxing again as Robbe leaned into him.  
“Good morning.” Sander said, the sing song tone in his voice almost matching the melody of the song. Robbe huffed a responsive grunt into Sander’s back. Sander took the cue and wrapped his free hand around Robbe’s, leaning back into the hug. He flipped the croque on the pan and plated it next to an equally perfect sandwich, crust sliced off the way Sander preferred. Satisfied, he picked up the fresh croque from the plate and held it high enough over his shoulder for Robbe to take a bite.  
“Ready to get mindblown?” He teased.  
It was hot on his tongue, but Robbe chewed the delicious, buttery sandwich anyway.  
“Best croque ever.” Robbe teased back.  
Sander smiled as Robbe leaned forward, giving his boyfriend a kiss, the crumbs from the sandwich stuck to his lips. It didn’t matter how many Sunday’s Sander had made him that same grilled cheese sandwich. It was always the best Robbe had ever had. But now Sander was dragging him along, still twisted together, Robbe’s chest tight against Sander’s back as they shuffled over to the kitchen table.

  
“Are you going to let go or are we eating breakfast attached like this?” Sander asked, looking over his shoulder with a smile. Robbe smiled back and reluctantly detached himself from his boyfriend. He pulled out the seat for Sander who took it with a nod. Once Sander was seated, Robbe gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and took the seat across from him.  
They barely spoke as they ate, preferring Bowie’s quiet musings and the musical clink of silverware on plates and the crunch of the well-toasted bread, but Robbe smiled a lot and caught Sander smiling at him too.

  
When they were finished and the kitchen cleaned up, they disappeared back into Robbe’s room.  
“Thanks for breakfast.” Robbe said, eyes wide as he stared at Sander, now stretched out on his bed.  
“Of course. Can’t be letting you eat that sugar filled sandwich that you make yourself.”  
“Speculoos is delicious.”  
“Zoe and I would both agree to disagree, and she only likes me because I made you eat a salad.”  
“I eat salad!”  
Sander raised his eyebrow at Robbe, doubtful. Robbe rolled his eyes but climbed onto the bed anyway, wrapping his arms and legs around Sander. Sander let him get comfortable before he wrapped his arms around Robbe and pulled him in close, placing a kiss into his mess of hair. Robbe looked up at him.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too.” Sander said, all teasing drained from his voice. There were many things that Sander Driesen would make light of. His love for Robbe was not one of them.


End file.
